


Anywhere I Lay My Head

by orphan_account



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Gay, Gay Male Character, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Plot is different than original game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-12 04:35:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12951405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Arthur (Dadsona) had to move on. But was he ready for this?





	1. Lost

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is a new Robert story because I wasn't happy with my last one ("Triangular"). This one starts at the beginning of the game's timeline, but I won't be following the exact plot of the game, only because I want to express my creative liberties. I hope you all enjoy this as much as I do.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthuer visits the neighborhood bar and finds himself in a predicament.

I heaved the last box through the door with a loud huff.

“Jeez, did we really bring that much stuff?” I breathed heavily, wiping my brow.

Amanda glared at me with condescending eyes. “ _You’re_ the one who insisted on packing your _entire_ DVD collection.”

“But… but you _love_ Glee!”

Her face broke into a guilty smile. “Yeah.” She hopped over to the couch and flopped onto it like a ragdoll. The setting sun beamed through the window, casting a fiery glow on her face. It was almost silent outside, aside from the usual neighborhood bustle. I took my first deep breath in our new home. Amanda turned over so she was positioned face down in the couch.

“You wanna do anything?” I offered, knowing well what her answer would be.

“Later,” she moaned into the pillow. I nodded even though she couldn’t see me.

“Alright. I’ll just go check out the rest of the neighborhood and tell you what I find, okay?”

Another indecipherable groan.

“Bye, Panda.”

She unburied her face from the cushions to look at me. Her bangs were messed up, but her eyes glowed with love. “Don’t get lost.”

***

I never did like bars, but that move really took its toll on me. The glaring neon sign on the door drew my attention, and I decided it’d be best if I wound down in a cozy hole in the wall like this. The smell of beer, feet, and, strangely, cinnamon, hit me as soon as I set foot on the sticky floor. I didn’t bother to scan the faces that populate the room; I just want a seat and a drink.

Why I hate bars, reason #1: I have so much trouble getting up on the barstools. I don’t like to disclose my height often, but anybody who has working vision would quickly conclude that I struggle with reaching the top shelf at the grocery store. Or maybe even the one below it. So I avoided the dreaded barstool and instead slide into a clean enough booth. In hindsight it could have been quite strange and even inconsiderate of me to seat myself in a booth with no company, but I hadn’t cared at the time. A server galloped over to my table and set a plate of greasy chips before me, and I gladly indulged. I asked for a light beer.

I hadn’t noticed that music was quietly playing until I found myself tapping my foot to the beat of a pop tune. After few sips of beer, I thought I was rather enjoying myself. I knew that I wouldn’t get many more days like this—where I could relax for myself, by myself—so I waved over another server and requested a strawberry daiquiri. He smirked and told me that it would be right over.

“Odd choice, sailor,” a low voice whispered in my ear. From behind me, a strange woman sauntered over to the booth opposite me. Why I hate bars, reason #2: social interaction with drunk strangers. She smiled at me with a fierce grin, as a cat does before it gets the mouse. “Buy a gal a drink?” I weakly smiled at her, unsure of how to handle this.

“Uhh, sure,” I stammered. She nodded at the server who was hurrying by, who seemed to know exactly what that meant. I looked back at the woman, assessing her wardrobe. A clean beige turtleneck accompanied by… a crucifix pendant? Her faded hair was neatly tucked into a simple black headband. Her makeup was impeccable, and even in the low lighting of the bar, I could tell that she had gorgeous features. I smiled at her again, unsure of how to tell her that I’m not looking to flirt. “So—”

“I’ven’t seen your face ‘round these parts,” she leaned forward on the table, placing her elbow on it and resting her chin on her palm. She blinked a few times before seeming to remember where that sentence was going. “You new?”

“Uh, actually, yeah. How’d you know?”

“I just told you.”

“Oh. Right.” I ducked my head out of instinct. I had a thing for making things awkward for myself. To my relief, a server returned with both of our drinks. The woman thanked him and immediately threw back her glass. It looked like tequila, but I didn’t have enough time to tell before it disappeared down her throat. I looked down at my own drink, suddenly feeling silly. She eyed me darkly, and I shyly averted my gaze.

I was in the middle of sipping my fruity concoction when my company blurted, “I’m not flirting with you, you know.” I nearly choked on my drink.

“What?” was the only response I could manage.

“I’m not—” her eyes flickered to steal a glance at something—perhaps some _one_ —behind me and gave a small nod; it all happened quicker than I could have comprehended. “—making a move, if that’s what you think. A girl needs a drinking buddy, am I right?”

I chuckled nervously and nodded, though I was not following at all. _I don’t drink_ , I wanted to say. _I never go out_ , I held back. _I’m not interested in women!_ I finished the rest of my drink in silence, wondering if she’d ever avert her gaze from me. I just wanted her to say _something_ ; I was already here in a strange place by myself, putting myself out there for the first time in years. I didn’t come here just to be harried by a drunk stranger. But at the same time, I didn’t want her to ask anymore questions. I was afraid that she would start asking about _me_ , and I _hated_ talking about me. I used to just talk about Alex whenever people asked about me; he was so much easier to brag about. Back then before he… passed… we were so social. We could talk to anyone at any time. Now I never talk anymore, and not just because I have no one to talk to.

The stranger seemed to acknowledge my internal conflict because she just stared at the glossy window with a wineglass in hand, which I didn’t even realize that she’d had. I looked at her again, this time more clearly. From this angle I could see the bags under her eyes, carefully concealed with makeup. She seemed to have very arched eyebrows and sharp eyes when I first encountered her, but now I could see that her features were a lot softer. Her initial sardonic smile had now melted into a firm pout; her lips bounced like she was deeply lost in thought. We hadn’t exchanged much, but I could tell a lot more about her now. Maybe I had a shot at this.

“So what’re you up to?” I offered.

She shifted her eyes back towards me, regaining a smirk on her face. “Depends on who’s asking.”

It was my turn to smirk. Two could play at this game. “Alright, Captain. Who’s going first?”

She exhaled. “You’re barely grazing me, kiddo. Try harder.”

I came to a dead end. “Alright, alright,” I extended my hand, finding that it was a lot heavier than I remembered. She accepted it with an icy grip. “I’m Arthur.” We shook. “But you can call me Art.” Her nails dug into the back of my hand, and I unwillingly yelped.

“Sorry, _Art_ ,” she smiled innocently. “I have an automatic primal response to cheesy bullshit.” She let go of me, but not after giving my hand a small sympathetic pat. “I’m Mary, but you can just call me Sir.” Her sudden steel stare caught me off guard, but before I could open my mouth she laughed. “Kidding. Just call me Mary.” I nodded at her, finishing off the last of my drink.

“Nice to meet you, Mary. So, may I ask you again what you are doing here on this fine evening?”

Her eyes flickered to somebody behind me again. I could tell she was having a full conversation in an instant with just a small glance. Though I was burning with curiosity, I didn’t bother turning around to investigate; not only would I blow my cover, I would ruin the moment. So I pretended not to notice.

“The usual,” she sighed. “Wandering, thinking, possible murdering.”

By now I was on guard and had caught onto her game. “Ah, but where would you hide the body in this beautiful neighborhood?” I gestured around.

She deliberated. “Depends on where your new house is, sailor.”

Normally I wouldn’t disclose this information, like, ever, but something had put me in a good mood that night. Perhaps it was the drink. “Right in the middle of that cul-de-sac,” I pointed out the window in the direction that I thought I’d come from. Her eyes followed my finger, and she seemed instantly brighter. Her smile widened for just a second, the corners of her mouth bouncing like a spring. She retained her composure, but she was definitely bubbling with more excitement than before. She pushed her hair back behind her ear, tucking a strand into her headband.

I suddenly remembered where I was; my daughter was at our new home alone, and I was out getting drunk at a shitty bar. I promptly started getting up. “Speaking of that cul-de-sac, I should probably—”

Mary’s hand was on my shoulder in an instant, forcing me back down into the cushiony booth. “Come on, Art, stay a bit. We just met! Besides, we have company.” I opened my mouth to ask what she was talking about, but a large man slid into the booth right next to me before I could speak. A wave of whiskey and cigarettes washed over me as soon as our arms made contact, and I didn’t dare look at him. His presence repelled me, and I shrunk into the corner of the chair, keeping at least a foot between his leg and mine. I stole a sideways glance at him: dark hair, dark skin, dark leather jacket. I looked back at Mary with wide eyes, but she was beaming at the new stranger.

“Hello, Robert,” she smiled.


	2. Not Yet Found

The man grunted. I was still cowering in the corner of the booth, but neither of the two seemed to care. They were lost in conversation already, and I had just regained my breath from being startled. I sat back up and looked down into my empty glass. The warm lighting in the bar bounced around, making everything look like it was glowing. I’d felt bubbly just a moment ago, but I suddenly felt very vulnerable. Something about the way this dark man loomed over me without even trying… he wasn’t even acknowledging that I was here, and that made me want to get his attention even more. I’d lived enough of my life being ignored.

I tried tuning in to their conversation, but their voices swam in my brain and I couldn’t focus. He had a low and gruff voice, one that didn’t speak often but was heard when it did. It complimented Mary’s sultry tone nicely. My eyes shifted from my glass to his hands, which were fidgeting with something I couldn’t see. His dark skin was rough and covered in small white scars, and I couldn’t help but think about Alex. He used to work so hard on his art that he would bruise and scar all over…

“Oh, how rude of me!” Mary giggled. She put her cold hands atop mine, clasping our fingers together. “Art, this is Robert. Robert, Art. Say hello, you two.” I made eye contact with the man beside me, and as tacky as it sounds, I felt my heart skip a beat. He was strikingly attractive. His jaw was wide and complimented his facial bone structure nicely. His unshaven facial hair was messy, but somehow it worked. Maybe because his greying yet full head of hair was also ungroomed. His eyebrows were dark and thick, not aggressive but very stern. It was hard not to notice his distractingly handsome features, but I seemed to freeze when I looked into his deep sunken eyes. Something about how concealed and murky they were… I just wanted to climb in and fish out whatever was causing the darkness. I shook myself out of it.

“Hi, Robert,” I snatched my hand from Mary’s grasp to offer it to him. He accepted with a hesitant shake.

“Art,” he nodded, then promptly continued talking to Mary like I wasn’t even there. I placed my hand back in my lap and stared into my glass again.

“You guys up for shots?” Mary’s voice suddenly rang in my head. I really wanted to refuse, but Robert waved at the bartender from across the room and held three fingers up. Before I knew it, I was staring at three shots of whiskey lined up on our table. I felt like an innocent doe who’d been caught by hunters on both sides, exposed and trapped. I sensed Mary’s eyes on me. Robert was practically looking in the other direction. I stared at the table. In the corner of my eye I saw Robert’s arm throw back the shot; Mary did the same right after. Robert slid the last glass towards me, the glass making a hollow scraping sound against the wood table. It landed right in front of my face, and I realized I had no other choice. The beat of the ambient music suddenly grew louder, pounding into my head. I picked up the small glass with a shaking hand. The scene around me seemed to melt away around me as I brought it to my lips, but the burning sensation instantly brought me back. To no avail, I tried holding in my coughs after swallowing the shot. I thought I heard Mary giggling at me, but when I looked up she was just staring at her hands.

I felt the heavy pat on my back before I saw it happening, and I started hacking and coughing like there was no tomorrow. Continuous pats on my back. Another giggle from Mary. Once my fit was over and I wiped the tears from my stinging eyes, I realized that Robert was the one whose hand on my back belonged to. And whose large and warm hand was _still_ on my back. I froze while staring at him, and he realized that he was still making contact. He pulled his hand back quickly and cleared his throat.

“I take it you don’t drink often?” _Damn_ , his voice was sexy.

“Uhh, no. Not really,” I sputtered. My gut was starting to hurt. Robert’s quiet laugh caught me off guard; it was surprisingly gentle and free, completely contradictory to the vibe I was getting from him. I’d expected it to be… stiff.

“That’s okay, we’ll fix you up real quick,” he teased. Mary laughed. My head was spinning, and I instantly felt the need to get out of this place.

“Thanks for the offer, Robert, but I really gotta head home. Nice meeting you guys.” I started scooting out, assuming that Robert would get out of the booth to allow me to leave, but he didn’t budge. I scooted until our thighs made contact, and he abruptly stood up beside the table.

“Pardon me,” he grunted. I nodded at him then looked at Mary.

“See you around,” I smiled, then stumbled away. My footsteps seemed to be the only sound in the whole room, yet they were also drowned out by all the noise. I began to forget where I was. I had trouble with the door, but eventually I made it through. The warm late-spring air made my skin tingle, but I powered through in the direction that I assumed was home. _God, who the fuck am I? Getting drunk the night before I have work, leaving my daughter to her own devices in a strange place? What’s gotten to me?_ All of a sudden I thought I heard a low grumble behind me. I turned around to see Robert approaching me with a scowl. Or maybe that was his normal face. He stopped right in front of me, and was a lot smaller now that I was standing face-to-face with him. In fact, I think we were about the same height. How had he seemed so large earlier when he was sitting in the booth next to me?

“I, uh—we’re going to the same place… so I figured…” he trailed off, looking at me expectantly. What does he want?

“Yeah?” I slurred with a ruder tone than I’d intended. _Shit, don’t make the hot stranger mad!_

“I’m heading home too. Figured you could use a walking buddy, was just trying to be nice,” he retorted, but with no hostility. I looked into his deep eyes once more; dark bags dragged them down, but I swore I saw a glint of hope. A hope that was buried within, behind a thick cloud of smoke.

I smiled at him. “Sorry. I’d love a walking buddy.” He didn’t smile back, but started walking instead. I fumbled to catch up to him. I opened my mouth to speak a couple times, but I never really knew what to say. I was also very intimidated by this man; I’d just met him at a _bar_ , he looked like he probably owns a few motorcycles, he might’ve gotten into fights for fun... I knew nothing about him. “So what do you do?” I asked breathily.

He huffed and pulled a cigarette out of nowhere. I never supported smoking, never will, but something about the action fascinated me. I stared at him as he ignored my question and lit his smoke, closing his eyes as he took a drag. He blew the smoke away from me. _How considerate._ As we walked I closely examined his features again for… scientific purposes.

He finally spoke up. “There a reason you’re staring at me?”

I instinctively averted my gaze. _Don’t piss him off, don’t piss him off, don’t piss him off._ I tried mustering my courage again. “I, uh—you didn’t answer my question.”

He shook his head. “I know. Questions are stupid.”

I nodded in agreement, though I didn’t agree at all. “Okay. That’s okay.” We rounded a corner and simultaneously increased our pace. A bird in a tree somewhere sang a particularly obnoxious song. I cleared my throat. “So, is there, uh, anything you wanna talk about?”

That inexplicably made him chuckle. “Sure, kid. Anything you want.” He still would not look at me, which at this point was a bit offensive. In the bar it was a nice act, the whole “too cool” thing, but in the light of the setting sun it was becoming quite rude. I kept quiet for the rest of the walk, thinking only about how badly I wanted to be in my new bed. He abruptly came to a stop, and I looked up from the ground.

“This is, uh, my house,” his eyes darted from side to side as if he didn’t know how else to terminate this conversation.

I spared him the formality of the goodbye. “Alright,” I mumbled, already starting to walk to my house (which was coincidentally _right_ _next_ to his). I rubbed my eyes; I just wanted to pass out at this point. No reason to bother with this stranger who was also now my neighbor. “Nice meeting you,” I drunkenly waved at him. I only glanced at him for a brief second, but I thought I saw a smile on his face behind the cigarette. Must’ve been my imagination.

“See ya,” he called.


	3. Coffee Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Arther meets Joseph.

I grimaced when the burning-hot coffee scorched my tongue, but I knew I just had to power through it. Today was going to be a long day at work, and I needed a hefty boost after staying up _way_ past my bedtime watching television with my daughter.

“Thanks, Mat,” I smiled at him before leaving the shop. He was a really nice guy; I first met him when I came to his shop before work last week, and I’ve found myself coming back every morning just to get a morale boost from him. It was something about how much passion he put into everything: his work, his self-presentation, heck, even his words were filled with energy. The world really needed more Mats.

“Not a problem, Art. Have a great day!” he beamed back at me. I made my way out of the shop and was about to get into my car when a hand was rested on my shoulder. I whipped my head around to find a bright man standing way too close to me. He had perfectly coiffed golden hair, twinkling blue eyes you could almost swim in, and a shining set of beautiful teeth. Disgusting.

“You must be Arthur,” he stated. I tentatively nodded. He took his hand off of my shoulder to shake my non-coffee-holding hand. “I’m Joseph. I live right next door.” Another dazzling smile. “My wife and I saw that you moved in last week, and we couldn’t help but arrange a neighborhood party to welcome you! Sound good?” I cocked my head and nervously bit my lip. _Is this guy for real right now? A_ party _to welcome me?_ “Great!” he didn’t wait for my reply. “If you’d just put your number here,” he shoved his large and expensive phone in my face, “I can message you the details.” I took it in my hands and slowly typed out my number. I guess this is what Amanda meant by ‘getting myself out there,’ if I recall her words correctly. I handed his phone back once I was finished. “Fantastic. See you there!” He winked at me, which wasn’t weird, but he also whispered ‘wink,’ which definitely was. Before I knew it, the golden husband was strutting away into the shop. I looked down at my coffee and ran over what had just happened. I never really liked parties, not after I settled in post-college, and this was my first adult party I’d been invited to. I never went with Alex to his art society gatherings because they always weirded me out.

I sighed and got into my car. My phone, laying atop the dashboard, lit up with a new message from an unknown contact.

** “Hey! Joseph here. **

**The barbecue is this Saturday, 3 pm. Bring your best smile! The neighbours are so excited to meet you. See you there.**

**Joseph”**

_Well that was quick. Wait, it’s a barbecue? That means free food, right?_ I was suddenly feeling more encouraged about this than before. _Wait, why does he spell neighbors with a ‘u’? Who the fuck does that?_

My phone buzzed again.

** “:)” **

I quickly set the device on ‘do not disturb’ mode.

 


End file.
